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alidravana · 3 years

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The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday (Ch.1/3)

Written for @911auweekend: Day 1 - Different Career Path.

Special thanks to @alilypea for editing this story and running this awesome event!

Pairing: Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Rating: T

Warnings: Past sexual assault by a therapist as per canon.

Word Count: 2,061

Summary: As a result of Eddie's fist fight over a handicap parking spot, he is ordered to attend therapy....little did he know the impact this would have on his love life.

Can also be read on A03. Story is complete and remaining chapters will be uploaded over the course of the next week!

*****

Eddie glanced at his watch again, checking the time. He had been told that the session started at 7 PM sharp, so of course, he had arrived fifteen minutes early. Eddie had grabbed a cup of lukewarm coffee from the self-serve table at the back of the room, deciding to ignore the slightly stale donuts, even though his stomach was grumbling at the sight of them. He selected a chair close to the exit, so he could fantasize about leaving the session whenever he wanted to, although he had a court order that required him to attend twelve full sessions.

At least Eddie had been able to choose where he took his therapy sessions, and was able to select a local veterans group therapy rather than attending one on one sessions with someone who didn’t understand where he was coming from. But as he sat there awkwardly on a folding chair that had been placed in a circle and avoided looking at the other attendees, he wondered if he had made the right choice. The therapist was ten minutes late at that point, and Eddie was wondering if he had to stay the whole time even if the therapist never showed.

As Eddie sat there dreaming of all the other things he would rather be doing instead of therapy, like watching a movie with Christopher, or enjoying a cold beer while relaxing on his couch, he could hear the thump of something heavy landing on the ground along with rushed footsteps outside the room. He tensed slightly, why, he wasn’t really sure. But then a tall, blond-haired man entered the room, nodding to the other attendees as he limped across the room muttering apologies under his breath. A messenger bag hung over his shoulder, bumping awkwardly into the crutch he had in his left hand, and he briefly paused to untangle it before sitting down into a chair directly across from Eddie.

His eyes met Eddie’s. Eddie could see pain flash briefly across his face and then recognized the shift in his body to push it down, to hide it from the rest of the attendees. He knew what that looked like, having done it for so long since Shannon had passed that he instantly felt a connection to the man across from him, regardless that it was the first time he had ever seen him before.

“My apologies for the delay in starting,” the man apologized, looking around at the other members of the group. He nodded to the one older woman, who had pulled over an extra chair so that he could prop his leg up. “I see we have a few new members in our group tonight, please give a little wave if you are new,” the man asked, tilting his head in Eddie’s direction.

Eddie waved reluctantly, feeling like he had been placed back into elementary school with his son but relaxed slightly when he saw a couple other people copy his actions. He glanced back down at his hands, not wanting to draw any further attention if he could avoid it.

“For those of you who are new, my name is Buck, and I will be leading this session this evening. I encourage all of you who are here to share your troubles or your causes of celebration as we go through our evening,” Buck said, smiling at each of the participants in the room and then led them into the main topic of the evening, which was about the importance of communication with family and friends.

By the end of the night, Eddie was drained, both emotionally and physically. He wasn’t able to get up the nerve to say anything, but he had listened carefully to the stories that were being shared around the circle. It was easy to see the sense of community in the group, which was common whenever a group of veterans came together. Eddie was very impressed with the ability of several of the members to share their emotions, something he found all too difficult….and which had led him to punching a man over a handicapped parking spot.

Shaking his head, Eddie stood up, and headed towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the therapist, Buck, seemed to be having a bit of difficulty maneuvering his crutch and messenger bag and Eddie slowed down his pace. Eddie hung back for a moment, understanding the need to try to do things without asking for help, but when Buck finally dropped his crutch, Eddie swooped in to pick it up.

“Here you go, man,” Eddie said, holding the crutch out to Buck so that he could slide it under his arm easier. He blushed slightly at the grin that Buck shot him, as a brief thought of ‘this man’s gorgeous’ shot across his mind.

“Thank you,” Buck said, straightening up his position now that he wasn’t so off-balance. “I actually meant to ask you to stay behind for a few minutes, but I really need to get back to my place to rest this stupid leg,” the man said, tilting his head in the direction of his left leg.

Eddie nodded, assessing Buck’s leg without really thinking about it, second nature as a result of his career choices. He was curious about the injury, but knew it would be rude to ask. “Well, you have my number right? How about we snag a better cup of coffee before our next session?” Eddie said, waving his empty cup from earlier.

At Buck’s nod and agreement, Eddie headed on out, only realizing once he climbed in his truck that it sounded like he had asked his therapist out on a date. Groaning as he leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, he figured he would wait to straighten everything out at their coffee meeting, rather than embarrass Buck any further by mentioning it again at his workplace.

XXXXX

Eddie had managed to stake out a table in the back corner of the busy coffee shop and took the chair that allowed him to see the entrance so that he could see Buck when he arrived. He was concerned that he might have already crossed the line by asking Buck for coffee but was relieved when he received a text the next day to schedule. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, blatantly ignoring some of the side looks he was getting from the staff for taking up a table without ordering anything.

Similar to the therapy session, Buck was about five minutes late showing up. Eddie noticed that he was without a crutch this time, but instead had an ankle brace wrapped around his left foot and was still limping slightly. Once Buck spotted him, Eddie stood up and left his jacket on the chair, hoping that no one would steal their table as he joined Buck in the line. Buck ordered a caramel macchiato, which was not something that Eddie would have ordered for him, so he was glad he waited. He ended up ordering his standard dark roast and decided to try it with oat milk for a change.

“Are you lactose intolerant?” Buck asked him, noticing that he had asked for oat milk.

“Nope,” Eddie said, stepping in front of Buck as the taller man attempted to pay for their coffees, waving off Buck’s protests and handing the barista his credit card instead. “Hen, one of my co-workers has been going on about how much she’s liking oat milk in her coffee, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

The two sat down at the table, Eddie relieved that no one had stolen their seats. He took a tentative sip, noticing that Buck was watching him closely on his reaction. “Doesn’t taste much different than normal milk,” Eddie concluded, shrugging slightly.

“Maddie, my sister has been on an alternative milk binge lately, I’ve been having to bring my own cream when I go over to her place,” Buck said with a grin.

Eddie snapped his fingers, the name Maddie sounding familiar. “By any chance, is she dating a firefighter?” Eddie asked, wondering what the odds of Chimney’s girlfriend being Buck’s sister were.

“Yeah, Chimney,” Buck said, sounding surprised. “Wait, no, does he work with you? What are the odds?” he added, chuckling.

Eddie nodded, laughing along with Buck. The two of them exchanged some further pleasantries, including Eddie sharing a funny story about how Chimney got his nickname. As the clock ticked closer to the next hour and their drinks got low, he noticed Buck shift, looking a bit uncomfortable and realized that he was about to bring up the original purpose of their meeting.

“What do you think about heading out of here and going to the park across the street to discuss what we need to talk about? It’s rather busy here,” Eddie suggested, having glanced around the coffee shop, and realized how many ears could overhear details that he’d rather not share.

“Yeah, sure,” Buck readily agreed, following Eddie out of the shop after disposing of his cup. They sat down on the nearest bench, and after an awkward pause, Buck started to talk. “So this is super awkward, but it’s a requirement of your court order that you ‘actively’ participate in our therapy sessions,” he explained, using finger quotes to emphasize the active part. “Now typically, the court also likes to have some sort of report from the therapist as well to confirm that you are participating.”

Eddie couldn’t help but flinch at this comment. The idea of sharing to the group was hard enough to deal with, the idea of a stranger reading his story was devastating to say the least.

Buck quickly shook his head, placing his hand on Eddie’s knee in reassurance. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have just sprung that on you. Some therapists follow court orders to the letter, I don’t,” Buck explained, trying to calm down Eddie. “I will give them very vague reports, like, today, Eddie talked about his family to the group, and that is all I will send. Whatever you choose to share will stay between myself and the group.”

Eddie nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed at his knee jerk reaction. He wasn’t sure if his blush was due to that embarrassment, or the fact that Buck still had a comforting grip on his knee, which Buck seemed to realize, and quickly pulled back. Eddie felt a slight twinge of discomfort at the loss of contact, but shook it off.

“I think it took me a whole month to share my story with the group and I was so nervous that I think I threw up right before the session,” Buck reminisced, leaning back against the bench. Eddie looked at him in surprise, he thought it would have been easier for the man.

“I know that look,” Buck said with a grin, causing Eddie’s blush to deepen. “Well, I’ll have you know that I wasn’t always a therapist. I started off on a similar path as yours, but in the Navy.”

Eddie looked up and down at Buck, trying to visualize the man in uniform and realized it came easily. “Is that how you injured your leg?” Eddie blurted out, and then mentally smacked himself for asking something so personal.

But Buck just nodded, reaching down to grip his calf. “As you know, I can’t go into many details,” Buck said, exchanging a look with Eddie. “But yeah, there was a bomb which resulted in my leg being crushed under one of our vehicles...I was pretty lucky to keep my leg.” Buck explained, pausing in thought.

“No cool robot leg?” Eddie teased, trying to lighten the mood. He had noticed that it looked like Buck was lost in his memory, and he was sure that it wasn’t a good memory if he was thinking of his injury.

“No, no cool robot leg,” Buck replied with a grin, and then a laugh. “Well, Eddie, I have to get back for another client, but I will see you tomorrow night?” Buck said, standing up reluctantly.

Eddie nodded, feeling a bit better about sharing now that Buck had shared a bit of his story. He waved as Buck headed back to his office, trying to not think too hard about why being labelled as a client felt wrong.

#911auweekend #SEAL Evan 'Buck' Buckley #Therapist!Buck #buddie #bisexual buck #bisexual eddie #getting together #911 on fox

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frizzlenox · 3 years

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“I thought you looked familiar.” Carlos smirked, tracing his finger over a small tattoo on TK's hip.

TK is a waiter who meets Carlos at work. When they become intimate, his real job is revealed.

For @911auweekend Day 1: “This is the job I was meant to do.”

#911 AU Weekend #au #fic writer #tarlos fic #tarlos smut #911AUWeekend

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lire-casander · 2 years

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the dream of someone else

[4,700 words] [teen and up audiences] [beta’ed by @moviegeek03. you're the best, brit. i wouldn't have finished this without you.] [title from you’ve got mail] [carlos reyes, tk strand, original female characters] [alternate universe — college, alternate universe — coffee shop, alternating povs, carlos is a criminal studies major, tk is a health science major, vandalizing of public property, alternate universe — movie setting, loosely based on you’ve got mail au, mentions of past drug addiction, mentions of recovery] [written for @911auweekend, day 1: not your average coffee shop au, day 3: outsider’s pov tinder date au, day 4: writer’s choice and for my good things happen bingo square coffee shop au]

[carlos reyes wasn’t expecting a penpal out of his busy mornings studying at the cafeteria. tk strand hadn’t expected anyone to reply to his message left on a table out of boredom and struggling.]

the dream of someone else on ao3

The cafeteria is bursting with life when Carlos sets foot in the place, ready for a quick break in between his classes. He’s spent the past three weeks holed up in his room trying to finish one of his essays, and he’s made it in time, so he thinks he deserves a reward. However, he would have liked for the place to be a bit quieter. He eyes the tables warily until he sees one free table further inside the cafeteria. He makes a beeline for the table, dropping his messenger bag on top of it noisily. Whatever happens now, this table is his now.

He knows he needs to leave the bag on the table to go order, and he isn’t really so keen on doing so, but he doesn’t want to give up his table and he desperately needs caffeine. He grabs his wallet, checks that nobody would want to steal his secondhand Introduction to Psychology textbook, and runs to the counter. For all the people boisterously chatting across the cafeteria, the baristas are not too busy, so he gets his coffee and a bagel in record time and rushes back to his table. His messenger bag is still on top of the table, and it doesn’t look like anybody has come even close to it. He sighs, falling down on the chair while managing not to spill his coffee, and takes his book out of the bag.

Carlos opens the book at the page he last marked, realizing he needs to take more notes from the book than he initially expected. He huffs; he’s been attending class these past weeks, but the stress of having to hand in an essay on Violence in Society has made him slack in his other classes. He needs to be ready for his class in around an hour and a half — he’s still cursing the planning he made at the beginning of the year, but he thought it’d be great to have such a span of time to relax and do nothing. If he could travel back in time and tell Carlos from three months ago that he wouldn’t have a moment to himself even with the ninety-minute gap between Introduction to Criminal Justice and Introduction to Psychology. He’s grateful that the building where he has most of his classes holds a cafeteria so he doesn’t have to run around campus and waste a lot of time. He skims over the last of the notes he took in class, which should be complementing the ones he takes out of his book, and reads that, according to what he jotted down a week ago, the professor announced they would be paired up for an upcoming project today.

Carlos doesn’t really want to work with anyone these days. He’s a perfectionist, he doesn’t like how other people work, and he ends up taking more than he can manage in order to finish the assignment in time. He’s been lucky to ditch working with peers for the past three months; he guesses his lucky streak ends this afternoon.

With a shake of his head, he focuses back on his textbook. He notices that the paper where he’s been writing down a few ideas is almost full, so he puts the book downwards and sticks his hand into the half-open messenger bag on top of the table. He fishes for a notebook and his pencil case, only to come up with just the former. He mutters to himself, “I know I put it somewhere in here,” before proceeding to turn the bag upside down — careful as to not slosh his coffee out of the cup. The movement makes the few contents inside the bag spill over the table, and as he finally sees his pencil case, falling onto the surface with a thud that gets somewhat lost in the background noises of the cafeteria, he also notices there’s scribble on the table.

He frowns. He isn’t one for vandalizing public furniture, but the presence of whatever message that’s on the surface makes him feel a bit icky about the cleanliness of the cafeteria. “What the—” he refrains himself from swearing, still under the spell of his mother’s words about gentlemen and swearing. He leans in, face almost against the wooden surface, so he can read the black-inked words, so different from his usual chicken scratch.

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

He repeats the words slowly in a soft voice, for fear that someone might overhear him and think he’s gone crazy. They roll nicely on his tongue, and the message behind them reaches Carlos’ heart. He’s moved by the force of the verses, which he recognizes are from Henley, and before he knows it he’s grabbing a sharpie and writing in the best handwriting he can muster the following verses to the poem.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

He feels a wave of accomplishment at having followed the poem with the next few verses — conveniently forgetting he’s just written on public property with permanent ink — and sets to re-read his book and jot down a few notes that could help him study for his test.

There's a calmness in the cafeteria right before closing time that TK cherishes. He spends his days running around campus, attending classes or volunteering at the in-campus LGTBQIA+ association he discovered during his very first day of college. And, since about a week ago, he's had to juggle that with having to meet with Carlos Reyes for their joint Psychology project.

Sometimes he hates his life.

He waves at his favorite barista, who's wiping down at the counter, before he approaches her. "Hey, Anne," he greets, leaning onto the surface. "How's the day been?"

"Hectic as always." Anne smiles at him. "Your usual? I can even throw an avocado and Philadelphia bagel in it."

"You haven't run out of them today?" TK beams at her. Those are his favorite treats, but his schedule doesn't allow him to be at the cafeteria before everyone else's gone through the supplies of avocado and Philadelphia bagels.

"Let's say I got one for you," Anne tells him with a wink. "C'mon, TK, I'll bring you your coffee and your bagel to your table."

"You're the best!" He lifts his fingers to his lips to send her an air kiss before turning to his usual table by the far end of the place.

He flops down on the chair, immediately checking the surface for new words. TK knows he shouldn't have done it, but he'd come to the cafeteria one night after his weekly meeting at the local NA — a requirement from his parents in order for him to go to college three thousand miles away from them — and he hadn't felt all that good. He'd taken out his sharpie, and before he'd known it, he'd been scribbling down the first four verses of his favorite poem about remaining whole in the face of adversity. He'd needed the reminder. Anne had almost had a conniption when she'd seen how he'd written on the table.

But, the following night, TK had found the next four verses of the poem scribbled beneath his own four, and his heart had done a giddy somersault. He doesn't know who's behind the chicken scratch, but for a whole week straight he's been exchanging verses and messages. It's been a wild seven days, and there's been some sort of weird comfort in the knowledge that there's been someone at the other end of a sharpie ready to read TK's thoughts and whines.

He checks the surface, but the wood looks pristine — not a single word inked in black and blue.

Anne comes by with his coffee and his bagel, and sighs when he looks up at her helplessly. "Anne—" he begins, but she cuts him off.

"I couldn't stop it," she explains with a shrug after she's left his coffee mug and his bagel with so much as a small droplet of liquid sloshed on the otherwise clean table. "I know it's been some sort of escape these past days, but my manager said she couldn't afford having any table littered like that."

"It's not—" TK bit his lip before raising his voice. He's gone to enough anger management sessions to recognize the signals and try to appease them by breathing in deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth before continuing, "I didn't think when I started doing it. I'm sorry. But this is the only way I could communicate with this person," he says in a small voice. He doesn't even know if he's penpalling with a guy or a girl, but he knows the other person might as well be his soulmate, be it romantic or platonic.

"What about you stick to post-it notes?" Anne suggests. "You can place it under the table, make sure it doesn't fall down."

"If it isn't on the surface, how will the other person know where to look?" he asks, frowning. He has a stack of post-it notes, but he isn't sure the glue on the paper will hold for longer than a few minutes. "And won't it be taken away anyway?"

"What's under the table isn't checked that often," Anne offers. "Plus, Abigail from the morning shift thinks she knows who your penpal is," she continues in a conspiratorial voice. "She can always explain where to find the next note."

TK stares up at her for a moment, dumbfounded. He wasn't aware that the different shifts talked to each other — and that shouldn't surprise him at all, anyway; his father's a firefighter back in New York and he's grown up surrounded by the members of the different shifts since they were all a big family — but he also didn't know that they specifically talked about him. That opened a whole new world of possibilities, but one detail sticks to his memories, and that's what he decides to run with.

"Abigail knows who the other person is?"

Anne shrugs. "She thinks she does. She can't be sure. But there's this guy who sits here every single morning right around lunchtime, and he's always with a sharpie in hand. It's not a wild theory." She checks the clock over TK’s shoulder and winces. "I should get going. There's so much left to do before closing time."

TK watches her turn around and go back behind the counter. He focuses then on his bagel and his coffee at the same time as he grabs his notes for the project he's been forced to do with Carlos Reyes. It's not something he enjoys, mainly because Carlos Reyes is one uptight guy who always has the right answer and seeks attention at any given class by raising his hand and demanding to be asked whatever question the professor is throwing at them. Plus, he's been very insistent on taking notes for their project on his laptop, arguing that it's more effective and quicker that way.

It's been faster to get their essay rolling, indeed, but TK isn't going to admit that to Carlos. Not when he's giving off weird vibes with his hair all gelled back and his fitting chinos and his impeccable Henleys.

Not that TK’s been paying any attention. Surely Carlos Reyes is a hundred percent straight. And TK isn't interested.

Not a single bit.

With a groan, TK picks up his laptop and starts it.

Carlos is about to throw some punches. It’s been a terrible week, and the only reason why he’s been able to go through it has been the small post-it notes he’s been exchanging with his faceless coffee table penpal. He hadn’t noticed them at first, despairing when he found out the table had been wiped clean and all their conversations had gone with a sweep of bleach and a ton of cleaner. But one of the baristas — Abigail, according to her nametag — had pointed him in the direction of the underside of the table, where his fingers had found a trail of neatly paged stick-notes he’d avidly read. He’d spared one of his post-it notes he used for class to reply.

The next morning, he’d come back with a stack of post-it notes and a new sharpie.

Their conversations have become the only highlight in Carlos’ days, given that he’s stuck with TK Strand of all people for the Psychology project. Carlos doesn’t understand the appeal Strand seems to have over everyone; no matter who he talks to, Carlos always ends up listening to a comprehensive list of reasons why TK Strand is the perfect human being. And it’s not only from TK’s known friends at college — Carlos has met with Paul Strickland and Marjan Marwani for different joint projects before, and they’re cool; their only flaw is to be close to Strand — but also from Carlos’ own friends. He thinks he’s going to rip his ears off if he listens to Nancy and Mateo waxing poetic about how wonderful TK Strand is.

Carlos knows his hatred, if that’s how he wants to call it, is irrational. In fact, hate is a really strong word; Carlos Reyes has not hated anyone in his life except himself. And that’s been happening ever since he turned seventeen and decided that he could trust his parents with his most sacred secret. He sighs into his morning coffee; there’s no need to revisit that particular memory today. He allows his fingers to roam over the keyboard of his laptop, mindlessly settling his fingertips on top of a few keys without pressing on them. He’s got the document he’s sharing with Strand on his screen; they’ve worked a lot on it and Carlos thinks it’s beginning to turn into something readable.

He hadn’t expected TK Strand to be actually good at joint projects and college, if he’s being honest with himself.

Carlos sips from his coffee, reading over the last few sentences Strand has written and replaying in his mind how the next few words should sound like. They’ve talked about it during their last meet-up at the library, in between Strand’s classes and his appointments for the evening — whatever that meant. Carlos isn’t one to pry, and he surely doesn’t want to learn anymore than he already does about TK Strand.

Perfect scores in his GPA. Eligible for different scholarships. Always top of his class. Volunteer at the in-campus LGTBQIA+ association where Carlos has been too chicken to even set foot in.

TK Strand is a lot of things, and Carlos couldn’t even resent him for being himself. He can’t afford to be attracted to Strand either, so he’s been balancing on a tightrope ever since Strand first sat down beside him at the library and suggested they brainstormed for their project.

“Focus, Reyes,” he tells himself, shaking his head to get rid of the image of TK Strand wearing a frayed yellow hoodie. Carlos remembers thinking how good TK would have looked like in Carlos’ own pink hoodie. “I said focus, Reyes,” he repeats to himself.

He can’t get distracted; he’s here on a tight budget and he can’t fail his classes. Not everyone has been able to get a scholarship to cover for everything.

“Oh, no, thanks,” a voice says next to him. Carlos lifts his gaze from the screen in time to see a guy dressed in jeans and a green button-up sitting at the table closest to him. He’s speaking to Abigail, who’s seemingly approached him to offer some of the specialties of the day. “I’m waiting on somebody.”

Carlos smiles at the guy, who seems fidgety and nervous. The guy smiles back before saying, “It’s just—it’s our first date. I don’t know what he looks like and I’m really nervous. We met online, you know? Through one of these dating apps? Anyway, I should probably go apologize to the barista.”

Carlos watches as he stands up and moves towards the counter. Swallowing a snort, he picks one of his post-it notes and writes down A guy just sat next to me. He’s waiting on a guy for their first date. They met online. It’s adorable with some pointy exclamation points by the end of it. He wishes he could see his penpal’s face upon reading it. He hopes his penpal understands.

He hopes his penpal knows that Carlos feels like the guy in the green button-up every single time he sits down at their table and reads the messages left for him overnight.

“Reyes,” he hears, making his head shoot up in recognition. He’s met with the indecipherable gaze of TK Strand. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I didn’t think you were a morning person, Strand,” he greets back, hand still under the table as his fingers press harder to make the post-it note stick.

“And I’m not,” Strand confirms, eyes scanning the cafeteria until they land on the guy talking to the barista. “But a good Tinder hookup has never hurt anyone,” he continues.

“Except for those girls who were assaulted a couple of months ago in Galveston,” Carlos is retaliating before he can stop himself. Strand frowns at him before shaking his head.

“Didn’t think you’d read the news,” he says after a beat.

“Didn’t peg you for someone who would actually know about those two girls,” Carlos replies.

Whatever Strand is about to say gets lost when the guy in green comes back and sits down. “Oh, hey,” Strand says in a casual voice, turning his back to Carlos. “I guess you must be Tony. I’m TK.” He sits down and starts chatting up the guy, who looks like he’s hit the jackpot.

Honestly, Carlos would be feeling the same if TK Strand had turned out to be his faceless Tinder hookup. That’s it, if he had the app downloaded on his phone. If he were a bit raver and stepped out of his comfort zone. If he were out to the world and not just his parents who didn’t even acknowledge the huge leap of faith he had taken.

He picks another note and writes Don’t get all “awww” on me because of the guy from before. It’s a Tinder hookup. With my Psychology partner who I kind of can’t stand but actually find attractive. I don’t really get why everyone’s so hung up on him. He’s just average! Anyway, this is no longer adorable

He doesn’t notice TK Strand’s gaze following his hand as he rips the note from the stack and places his hand once again under the table to glue it to the surface underneath.

TK is actually really fucked up.

He really, really, really, truly is.

He knows he shouldn’t have agreed to a coffee date with Tony — if that’s his real name — at the cafeteria where his penpal spends the mornings. He should have foreseen that he’d run into said penpal.

He never expected to find Carlos Reyes sitting with his laptop running and a steamy mug of coffee, right at the table where TK spends his evenings fantasizing about meeting his perfect penpal.

He never expected to witness as Carlos wrote something on a post-it note and stuck it under the table.

To say TK feels flabbergasted upon this revelation is falling short on the intensity of his feelings.

He’s ditched Tony as gently as he’s been able to before escaping the cafeteria in a rush, claiming to feel suddenly ill. Which isn’t exactly a lie. His stomach is running wild with butterflies scraping his insides with their tiny, imaginary wings.

TK leans into a nearby wall as soon as he gets outside the building to catch his breath. He rubs a hand over his face and draws in a shaky breath. He doesn’t know what to do next, because the force of his sudden realization is consuming him.

He’s been exchanging notes with Carlos Reyes — the guy with the rebel curl that falls on his forehead and that TK has been finding annoying and cute in equal parts, the guy with a penchant for order that TK has been willing to defy for so long, the guy with the brightest smile and the kindest eyes that TK has been refusing to admit he kind of like, maybe.

Paul was right, but TK doesn’t want to acknowledge that because Paul is always right. Even Marjan was right when she told him that this fantasy of penpalling with someone through messages on tables and post-it notes on a table at a busy cafeteria was nothing but a wild dream. It’s still not the wildest thing TK’s ever done — he shudders when he thinks of his past self, barely seven months ago, checking himself into rehab in Los Angeles after a stint gone awry when Alex had told him that he was in love with someone else. But this, whatever he had with his penpal, TK had thought it’d been real.

And now it turns out it’s been nothing but a mirage.

“Hey, are you okay?” he hears. When he lifts his eyes to the source of the sound, he meets the warm brown gaze of Carlos Reyes. “Did that guy bother you? You left in such a hurry, I didn’t think—”

TK surprises himself by stopping Carlos when he’s about to turn around and get back inside the cafeteria. His fingers find Carlos’ wrist and circle it gently. “Wait,” he says, his voice steady despite the state of nerves he’s in. “What are you going to do? Get back in and threaten ony? The guy hasn’t done anything.”

“Well, you seem pretty shaken up,” Carlos says in that soft tone of his, the same one he uses when he’s typing down one of TK’s ideas and he repeats the words to himself as though he fears he’d forget them. “If it hadn’t been the guy, then what? You sounded quite full of yourself inside, before.”

TK can’t stop the words from escaping his mouth, and he cringes when he hears himself saying, “It was you.”

The look on Carlos’ face changes so fast that TK feels dizzy just by looking at him. There’s a frown that blooms in between his eyebrows that TK longs to soothe until it disappears, and his eyes turn cold. TK doesn’t want the feeling that fills him.

“I see,” Carlos says slowly. “I hadn’t realized that you—I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again. I’ll pack my things and move somewhere else. I’ll email you my part of the project, even. That way you won’t be getting a panic attack whenever you see me.”

TK’s panicking. He doesn’t want Carlo to leave — he doesn’t want Carlos to think that he’s the reason why TK’s heart quickens and his breath hitches in his throat. Which, apparently, if TK’s being honest with himself, Carlos pretty much is the reason why all those things happen. Only, he hadn’t known until today that the crush he’s been developing on his project partner wasn’t at all incompatible with the crush he’s been developing on his secret post-it notes penpal.

But Carlos is walking back inside the cafeteria. If TK isn’t fast enough, he’ll be stepping outside of the building and TK will only see him in class. They’ll still have the notes, but they’re tarnished in TK’s mind now.

“Wait!” he exclaims, body setting into motion. He follows Carlos inside, but he doesn’t reach him until he’s at their shared table. TK notices that Tony is nowhere to be found; maybe he’s exited the cafeteria in the impasse between TK getting out and Carlos getting back in. “Carlos, wait a second.”

“I don’t think—”

“I know you’ve stuck a post-it note below the table,” TK blurts out before he loses his courage. “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Huh?” Carlos is staring back at him, positively looking like he thinks TK has lost all his marbles. Maybe he finally has. “Is that a crime now?”

“You’ve been exchanging notes with someone for quite some time now,” TK continues, earning himself a startled glare from Carlos. Great, he thinks. Way to come across as creepy. “I—I know because—”

“You’ve been spying on me?” Carlos snaps back, grabbing his messenger bag and strapping it across his chest angrily. “What’s your problem, TK? Why can’t you go back to your perfect life and stop messing up with mine?”

“What do you mean, mess up with your life?” TK almost shouts back. He’s aware that they’re attracting so many people’s attention on them, but somehow he doesn’t care. “It’s you who’re always seeking for that perfect score! You stress me out! Is that it, then? You think I won’t be able to meet your expectations and fuck with your grade?”

Carlos blushes. He tries to sneak around TK to get out of the cafeteria, but TK’s blocking his only escape and he doesn’t budge. “Let me get through, TK,” Carlos hisses.

“Aren’t you curious about why I know you’ve been exchanging notes with someone under a table at the cafeteria?”

“Well, I think it’s stated that you’re a creep,” Carlos says easily, looking down at the floor. “Why would you know otherwise?”

TK is so baffled at those words — at the certainty with which Carlos has spoken — that he takes a staggering step backwards, allowing Carlos to move away. And then, a sinking feeling conquers his soul; he’s losing it again, everything he didn’t know he needed, and he’s watching it quickly vanish from his life and he can’t do anything to stop it.

Only this time, he actually can.

“It matters not how straight the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll,” he begins, voice slowly rising as he speaks. “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”

He watches as Carlos stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the cafeteria, shoulders slumped forward. TK takes advantage of the momentum to reach him and gently push him outside the building. He doesn’t want any more witnesses to whatever this is. When they’re both outside, Carlos still looking down at the ground, with his hand tightly gripping the strap on his messenger bag, TK speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve just realized, when I’ve seen you writing down a note and sticking it under the table.” He takes a deep breath, ready to fight whatever fleeing feeling he might get as he furthers through this path he’s chosen. “It’s been me the whole time. I know it’s not ideal, and I know we’ve been at each other’s throats for a long time, but the truth is—” He clears his throat. “The truth is, I don’t know why, to be honest.”

Carlos finally looks up at him, his brown eyes throwing more questions than TK’s ready to answer. “I don’t know why either,” Carlos admits softly. “Why we’ve been antagonizing, I mean. We’ve worked quite well together on the project.”

“Yeah, I think we make a pretty good team,” TK acquiesces, earning a tentative smile from Carlos. “And I’m not saying this,” he gestures between them and then towards the cafeteria, “should mean anything. But it’s a start, isn’t it?”

Carlos shakes his head, as though he’s making a decision. In the end, he slowly lifts his hand and says, “Hey, I’m Carlos Reyes. I’m a tad perfectionist, not a team player at all, and I love writing small notes underneath coffee shop tables for my not-so-secret penpal to find them.”

TK hisses out a breath and smiles back. “I’m TK Strand. I need to learn to work in a team, so maybe we could do that together?” He laughs bashfully. “I also love leaving random poetry on tables for my secret penpal to find it.”

Carlos laughs as TK lifts his hand as well and shakes Carlos’, and when the touch sends a wave of electrified surge through his body, he does the only thing he’s never done before.

He holds on.

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breannacasey · 2 years

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Yard Day

TK watches in envy through the window, wishing he could also be a dog and play outside.

Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Hen Wilson/Karen Wilson. 1263 words. Gen.

Written for @911auweekend Day 2: Out of this World

Read on ao3

#911 lone star #911 on fox #my fanfic #my post

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benjaminrussell · 2 years

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We’re Beautiful Like Diamonds in the Sky

Fandom: 9-1-1 Relationship: Hen/Karen Rating: Gen WC: 1.7k Summary: Hen is relaxing in Bobby's coffee shop when she meets a hacker and they bond over judging the amateur stakeout that's happening on the other side of the room.

Hen was a thief, Karen was a hacker. Can I make it any more obvious?

Hen was sitting in Bobby’s coffee shop with a latte and a scone, minding her own business for the most part, when the woman at the table next to her muttered derisively, “Amateurs.”

Glancing up, Hen followed the woman's gaze over to the group sitting by the window that she’d clocked earlier. As a professional thief, she’d noticed that they were scouting out the jewellery store across the street as soon as she'd entered, but it didn't affect her or interfere with her current job so she'd paid them no mind. Professional courtesy and all that.

Read on AO3

For @911auweekend for the prompt: Day 1: Not your average coffee shop AU - they cannot work in the coffee shop. The coffee shop is incidental. They can however meet as a result or someone who does work there, or as customers.

It’s a little late given that I only saw the prompt on the day itself, but hey, it’s still the weekend!

#911auweekend2022 #911 #hen wilson #karen wilson #henren #911 fic

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ravens-words · 3 years

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my sunshine in the darkness, part 1 of 6

In a world where soulmates have danger meters that tell them how much danger their soulmate is in, TK and Carlos, who have been living thousands of miles apart for most of their lives, are in near constant uncertainty and fear as to the fate of their soulmate.

That is, until TK moves to Texas.

Five times one of them was in danger and the other couldn't do anything about it, and the one time one of them could.

For @sixringss lovely Liz, hope you enjoy this 💛 as part of the Firehouse 126 Discord Soulmate AU Exchange (wow, that is a mouthful) and @911auweekend

Thank you @lire-casander for giving this a read 🖤

When he was seven years old, a black band, one that was nearly identical to the ones his parents and sister had, appeared on his wrist.

His mother had beamed, pulled him into a hug and taken him out for ice cream.

“What does it mean?”

“This is a connection to someone you’re going to love very much. Your alma gemela, mi amor,” she told him softly, smile gentle,

Continue on AO3

#tarlos fic #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #ejwritestarlos

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noxsoulmate · 2 years

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Hahaha.

📓 and coffee shop

📓 and “there was only one bed”

Both for tarlos please?? (You knew I would not follow directions and do this!) 😂😂😂😂

😂😂😂 and I knew you would ask me for these two after we talked about that I probably had ideas for them 😂😂😂

📓 this idea came up thanks to day 1 of the @911auweekend, which was coffee shop AU but neither of them was allowed to work there. I ended up writing another idea for the event but this one has been on my mind ever since. It would be an outsider POV, the outsider being the barista - and they see TK and Carlos fall in love over time. They witness their first meeting there (yes, it would be an AU), then all the flirting, overhearing the rest of the 126 talking about them, the first date, and so on 😊

📓 this one is very, very vague, but I had the idea that instead of going with his dad to Austin right away, TK takes a time out and goes backpacking - maybe around Europe?!? He meets Carlos... somewhere?! and they hit it off - and of course, just then there's only one free bed left in the next tiny hostel. They still take the room, convincing the guy at the desk that one of them will sleep on the floor... 😏

See, told you I have ideas for both of them 😂

Send me a 📓 emoji + one more emoji or a word and I'll tell you about a fic idea I've been daydreaming about

#writing game #noxy writes #tarlos

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tarlosbuddie · 3 years

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9-1-1 & 9-1-1 Lone Star AU Weekend

Day 1 - First Meeting

The Client List + Madney

#911auweekend #madney #maddie buckley #howard han #my cracks and AUs #my gifs: the Madney/Client list AU #emsgifs

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diazbuckleyeddie · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Getting Together, First Kiss, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, different ending to the kitchen scene, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Boys In Love Series: Part 3 of 911 AU Weekend Summary:

Written for day 3 of 911 AU weekend - changing a scene in canon. This is my take of what should have happened following that kitchen scene in 3x09

****

Buck is around at Eddie’s for dinner, video games and Christopher. He's already helped Christopher with his homework, they’ve played video games, evenly matched in their excitement and he did not let Christopher win, he cooked dinner. And now Christopher is in bed asleep, and Eddie is clearing their plates up whilst Buck opens two bottles of beer, standing at the island in the kitchen and trying to keep his thoughts from spiralling.

@911auweekend

#911auweekend #buddie #911 #evan buckley #buck #eddie diaz #my fics #changing canon #the kitchen scene #fandom event

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911auweekend · 3 years

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Thank you!

Thank you to everyone who participated in this event, I really do appreciate it and am super grateful.

If you come across this event in future and are bummed out that you missed it, don’t worry. I will be accepting late submissions and keep the collection open.

Thanks!

Ashley

#911auweekend

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alidravana · 3 years

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The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday (Ch.2/3)

Written for @911auweekend: Day 1 - Different Career Path.

Special thanks to @alilypea for editing this story and running this awesome event!

Pairing: Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Rating: T

Warnings: Past sexual assault by a therapist as per canon.

Word Count: 2,026

Summary: As a result of Eddie's fist fight over a handicap parking spot, he is ordered to attend therapy....little did he know the impact this would have on his love life.

Can also be read on A03. Story is complete and remaining chapters will be uploaded over the course of the next week!

*****

Eddie hemmed and hawed the entire week about how he was going to share his story at his next therapy session. He was still incredibly nervous about the idea of standing up in front of the whole group, but didn’t need the court to add any additional sessions or specifics on where he should be going for therapy if he wasn’t participating enough to their liking. Eddie had only gone to the one group session so far, but felt relatively comfortable with a group of his peers. Buck was a huge positive as well. He was so nice and welcoming, and felt like the complete opposite of any other stiff, awkward therapists that Eddie had previously been sent to.

Eddie couldn’t figure out if he should only talk about what specifically caused him to end up in therapy, or go back a bit further, and share a bit about his time in service. He kept glancing at Buck’s latest text message to him, thanking him for the coffee and telling him that he could contact him at any time. His finger had hovered a few times to send a quick reply or a question about how much he should share, but then decided not to. Eddie was sure that Buck was busy with other clients and didn’t need him babbling on.

Eddie looked up at the clock, only a couple hours left on their shift. Then he had therapy and two days off that he was looking forward to spending with Christopher. They were hoping to spend the day at the zoo if the rain held off; apparently there was a new exhibit on elephants that Christopher was really excited about. Pouring another cup of coffee, he glanced down at his phone again. Lost in thought, he was caught off guard by Hen’s sudden appearance and subsequent question.

“Ok, so Chim and I have been discussing your current phone obsession,” Hen started off by saying, pointing her chin in the direction of his phone. “And I have $20 on it being online dating, so is it?” Hen concluded, as she and Chim sat down on the chairs at the island, both curious about Eddie’s response. The two of them had been gossiping all week long about what Eddie could be so distracted with on his phone.

Eddie shook his head violently, absolutely not. Online dating was a minefield that he had no interest in participating in.

“Then what’s got you so interested in your phone?” Chim continued, not letting up on the interrogation.

Eddie sighed, reaching over to the pot of coffee to pour Hen and Chim another round. He then sat down at the remaining stool, realizing that he had to give them something or they wouldn’t stop bugging him. “I’ve been attending some group therapy,” Eddie said quietly, not really wanting the other firefighters to overhear. It was fine that Hen and Chim knew, but that’s as far as he really wanted it to go.

“Oh...oh,” Hen replied with a whisper, reaching out with her hand to grip Eddie’s. “I’m sorry Eddie, we didn’t mean to push you into revealing something so private.” Chim looked similarly apologetic.

Eddie squeezed Hen’s hand back. “No, it’s fine,” Eddie said, slightly surprised that it really did feel fine to share what he had been up to. “Actually, Chim, you probably know the therapist who��s leading the sessions. It’s Buck...Maddie’s brother.”

Chim shifted a bit awkwardly before he responded. “I actually haven’t met Buck yet, Maddie’s been pretty secretive about him.” He exchanged an odd look with Hen, one that Eddie wasn’t able to decipher.

“Oh, well, just fair warning then, I may have told him a few of your funnier adventures over coffee the other day, so be prepared whenever you guys all get together,” Eddie added, wondering if he gave Buck an unfair advantage in meeting his sister’s boyfriend then. Oh well, can’t be helped now.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful that you are doing something for you, Eddie,” Hen added, and then returned to the couch to do some more studying, with Chim ducking away, likely to fill Maddie in on the most recent gossip.

Eddie nodded, he thought this might end up being a good thing for him too.

XXXXX

Eddie took a big breath, and sat down, nodding his thanks to those who had listened to his story. At the last minute, he had decided to skip the army backstory, other than to comment that he had served in Afghanistan. The shake in his hands that started whenever he thought of that helicopter crash was a good sign that he wasn’t ready to delve back into those memories, not yet anyway. Instead, when Buck asked at the start of the meeting if anyone had anything they would like to share, he stood up immediately, knowing that if he thought about it anymore, then he would chicken out again. He started his story by mentioning his current job at the 118, reuniting with his ex-wife Shannon only to have her abruptly taken away, and how he was having trouble dealing with all the anger he had felt since.

Eddie could see nods around the room when he talked about his anger, along with some looks of pity when he mentioned Christopher. He despised those looks and tried to shake them off as people who didn’t know any better, who simply couldn’t understand the complexity of raising a child with special needs. Did Eddie wish that his son wasn’t born with cerebral palsy? Of course, because it was difficult to see your child in pain, struggling to navigate the world as the other kids did but then realizing that he couldn’t. But he didn’t regret his son for one moment, nor did he regret being his father.

When Eddie finally got up the nerve to look at Buck, he was relieved to not see a look of pity on his face. Instead, his glance was met with another one of Buck’s beautiful smiles and a nod of support. Eddie felt like he was on cloud nine for the rest of the evening, listening in to the other members’ stories and participating in some of the question and answer periods. He was surprised when several people came over to him at the end of the night, thanking him for sharing his story, but he wasn’t surprised when Buck was the last one standing there.

“You did good, Eddie,” Buck said with a grin, patting Eddie on the shoulder and Eddie could feel his legs tremble slightly, whether it was a combination of Buck’s words or his touch, Eddie wasn’t sure. But he was sure that he had an eager 10-year-old waiting for him at home, so he did what every other person attending therapy would do, he invited his therapist to come over for a movie night. Now the two of them were heading to Eddie’s home, with a pile of last-minute snacks from the convenience store nearby, and Eddie was hoping that he didn’t look as nervous as Buck did.

“Are you sure Christopher won’t mind if I join you two?” Buck asked for a second time, his right hand tapping along the passenger door window frame. His apartment was really close to the community centre where they held their therapy sessions, and so had accepted Eddie’s offer of a ride to his place.

“Absolutely not, especially with the snacks you picked out,” Eddie replied, glancing back at the pile of sugar in his backseat. They all might have trouble falling to bed that night. He pulled up to his house and he and Buck piled out of the truck, lugging in their snacks. And Eddie had been right. Christopher took one look at the pile of snacks and declared that Buck was invited to all of their future movie nights. He then grabbed Buck by his hand and pulled the now flustered Buck over to the couch to watch Finding Dory, his new favourite movie.

Eddie had already seen the movie a handful of times and instead decided to focus on Buck and Christopher. Buck was obviously a natural with kids, pausing the movie when Christopher asked a question, not getting frustrated with the commentary over the movie, and making sure to listen to what his son had to say. Eddie wasn’t surprised when the movie was over that Buck was asked to read the bedtime story.

Three stories later, Buck finally escaped the bedroom and gave Eddie the thumbs up. Sitting down next to Eddie on the couch with a sigh, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes briefly, but Eddie could see the flash of pain that had shot through his eyes.

"Leg bugging you?" Eddie blurted out, noticing that Buck had been favouring it slightly all night long.

Buck nodded, propping his leg up on the coffee table. "Yeah, they say we are going to get a bad storm overnight. I know it sounds like an old wives tale, but the metal in my leg really starts to hurt when it's going to rain."

Eddie made a grabby motion towards Buck's leg. "Swing it up here, a medic that I served with taught me a few tricks to help out with that." Eddie didn't add that it was because of being laid up for weeks after being shot that he had started begging for something to do and ended up being taught massage therapy. That was a story for another day.

Buck shifted his leg into Eddie's waiting lap slowly, looking a bit hesitant about the whole idea. Eddie rubbed his hands back and forth to warm them up, and then gently placed them along Buck's calf, pleased when Buck didn't flinch or pull back from his grasp. He then slowly started to massage gently along Buck’s leg, starting from near the knee down to his calf. Not knowing how much pain Buck was actually in, Eddie kept the pressure relatively light and focused on making large, gentle circles with his thumbs as he moved down Buck’s leg. Eddie could tell by the small moans that Buck was letting out that the massage was doing the trick.

After what felt like hours, although it had probably only been twenty minutes or so, Buck reached over and placed his hand gently on Eddie’s wrist. “As much as I’d like you to keep doing that, I’m going to fall asleep on your couch if you keep it up,” Buck said with a grin, his whole body looking more relaxed than ever.

Eddie nodded, a bit disappointed that the night was ending. Between sharing his story at therapy, watching his son interact with Buck, and a slight tightening of his jeans from the small moans that Buck was letting out, he really didn’t want the man to leave. But he stood up to walk Buck to the front door hoping that nothing obvious was showing, while Buck waited for an Uber. Just as Buck’s ride showed up, Buck turned towards Eddie with a soft grin. “Thanks for the amazing night Eddie, I loved meeting Christopher.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but left it at that and headed out the door.

Eddie reluctantly went back into his living room and sat down on the couch, his beer sitting untouched on the coffee table as his mind was racing. Now instead of being angry at the world, he was angry at himself and at the situation he found himself in. He briefly felt a twinge of anger at the two of them meeting the way they did but shook his head roughly to get rid of that thought. It wasn’t Buck’s fault at all, Eddie’s attraction to the man was 100% on him. He needed to keep reminding himself that Buck was not his friend and definitely not a love interest, but his therapist.

Eddie reached over and chugged the last of his now lukewarm beer. It was settled then. He had to stop inviting Buck to do things outside of his therapy sessions. That should be simple, right?

#911auweekend #day1 #SEAL Evan 'Buck' Buckley #Therapist!Buck #buddie #bisexual eddie #bisexual buck #getting together #chapter2

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